Neville's Visions
by crookshanksgranger
Summary: Neville is having frightening dreams. Could they mean something?
1. Chapter 1

Neville sat up quickly in his bed, his eyes opened wide. He was panting and sweating, terrified. He had no idea what his dream could mean, but he doubted that it was good. He groped for his wand, found it, and muttered "Lumos." With the light, it didn't seem quite so bad, but he was still scared.  
  
This was the fifth night in a row that he had woken up from a horrifying dream. It wasn't the same dream every night, but all of the dreams seemed to be connected. He could never remember them very well, just blurred images swimming before his eyes right after he awoke. There was something about Dumbledore, he was sure of that. And he seemed to think that his parents were somehow in the dream, but how, he had no idea. There was a lot of screaming, and perhaps a great battle. He wrote down all of the things that he could remember in the small bound parchment tablet he had started to keep on the shelf above his bed, but there wasn't much. He lit the candle that he had on the shelf and read what he had written in the past nights and tonight.  
  
"August 14  
  
Dumbledore kept on saying something about Harry and about Snape I think. He seemed really worried, which scared the hell out of me, since he's Dumbledore. McGonagall was there too. Don't remember anything else, except that it scared me to death, and I'm not really sure why. I had a dream kind of like it last night, but I went back to sleep really soon after I had it. I think that Harry and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were in it."  
  
The next entry was very messy, and Neville could barely make out what it said, since it had been written moments after he woke up, while the memories were still fresh.  
  
"August 15  
  
Had another nightmare. My parents were in it, and they were acting like normal people, so I was incredibly happy for a moment, but then there was a bunch of yelling and I was petrified. I really can't figure out why I got so scared. Dumbledore was in this one too. It seemed to be related to my other dream.  
  
August 16  
  
In this dream, Ron and Ginny were trying to hide Harry somewhere because of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I saw my parents being tortured. Scared me out of my wits and I woke up screaming. Good thing Gran's a bit deaf. She'd probably think I was going crazy. She's had a bit too much of that happen to her family. Merlin, I hate He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Gosh, it's too much of a bother to write all of that. He's not worth wasting time over. Voldermort. I hate him. I hate Voldermort."  
  
Neville looked at the place where his quill had nearly gone through the thick parchment because he had been bearing down so hard. He had been angry that night. Of course he hated the man who had tortured his parents, who had made him almost worse than an orphan, but actually seeing them tortured, even in a dream, had outraged him more than he had known was possible. He felt the unfamiliar rage start to come over him, and he quickly started reading the next entry before he was filled with more fury than he thought he could handle.  
  
"August 17  
  
I think that maybe there was a big battle with Dumbledore and my parents somehow. Loads of yelling and screaming and curses. I think that I was screaming the whole time, too, but I don't know if I was actually screaming or just in my dream. These dreams are really starting to scare me. Maybe I should tell Dumbledore or McGonagall. I don't think Gran would understand, and she'd get upset if I mentioned my parents. Not that it really seems like she's upset, but I know how she is. I hope these dreams stop. I'm starting to get worried. But they probably don't mean anything. It's not like I'm good enough at magic to be a diviner."  
  
He was already forgetting most of the dream that he had just woken up from. It was odd. He could hardly ever remember his dreams anyway, or much of anything else for that matter, but it usually wasn't this bad. He wondered if his dreams actually told of anything, or if it was just his stress over everything. He would be going back to school for his sixth year in a few weeks. He pondered whether or not he should tell Dumbledore.  
  
"If I have the dreams for two more nights, then I will. Otherwise, it's not important enough to bother Dumbledore with. He has a lot of urgent business right now, I'm sure," said Neville quietly to himself. He blew out the candle and placed his wand, quill, and tablet back on the shelf, and then lay back down and tried to rest his troubled thoughts enough to get back to sleep. 


	2. Chapter 2

Neville awoke to his grandmother's voice. "Neville, wake up. We need to get to Diagon Alley early. You know that I can't abide crowds!"  
  
"It's practically still dark," mumbled Neville.  
  
"What's that?" asked his grandmother.  
  
"Yes Gran. I'll be down shortly."  
  
"All right. Don't take too long but be sure that you look decent. Appearances are very important you know. Even if you're only shopping for schoolbooks. Very important. Wear those nice new robes that your uncle gave you."  
  
"Yes Gran. I'll be down shortly," Neville repeated, with a trace of a sigh. He knew that his grandmother cared for him but he wished that she were more like his classmates' parents. Of course, she was a generation older, but still he could wish. While he was wishing, he wished that his parents were more normal. Then he thought of Harry and felt bad for complaining, even if it was only in his thoughts. Harry's relatives didn't care for him at all. Neville suddenly felt that he was lucky to have a grandmother that cared for him, even if she had a hard time showing it.  
  
He climbed out of bed, pulling on a pair of dark green slippers. The floor of his large bedroom was chilly, even in the middle of August. He quickly dressed in the dark red robes that his Great Uncle Algie had sent him. He felt rather silly wearing them, as they were really dress robes, but he knew better than to argue with his grandmother. They weren't really especially different from school robes anyway; the color was the main variation. He brushed his hair and put on a pair of shoes, and then walked down the stairs and into the sunny dining room.  
  
"Here is your breakfast, Neville," said his grandmother briskly, as she set a glass of milk and a plate of whole grain toast and fruit in front of him. "I have already eaten. Eat quickly, you know that I hate crowds."  
  
"Thank you, Gran," Neville said as he began to shovel the food into his mouth.  
  
"Eat politely. When I said quickly I did not mean for you to put your manners to the wind."  
  
"Sorry, Gran," said Neville. He tried to please his grandmother by combining polite eating and speed eating, but he wasn't sure that it worked. She looked at him rather sternly from across the table. He suddenly realized that in his haste he had dropped a piece of toast-buttered side down on his robes. So that was what the look was for.  
  
"Now look what you've done. Scourgify!" she cried as she pointed her wand at Neville's robes.  
  
"I'm sorry, Gran," Neville said meekly.  
  
"It's alright. Now go and brush your teeth and get your school list. I'll take care of the dishes," said Neville's grandmother with a hint of exasperation in her voice.  
  
Neville hurried up the steep stairs, cursing his clumsiness for the thousandth time. A few minutes later, he rushed down the stairs.  
  
"Do you have your supply list?" asked his grandmother.  
  
"Umm...no. Sorry, I'll just nip upstairs really quickly and get it," Neville said hastily as his grandmother tsked.  
  
Neville scurried up the stairs again, this time cursing his forgetfulness. "How can I ever be good at anything if all I ever do is break and forget things?" he thought angrily. "Why me? Is it not bad enough that my parents are insane? Do I have to be a horrible wizard, too? A horrible everything, actually." He grabbed his supply list and raced down the stairs, this time tripping over his own feet and falling down the stairs.  
  
"Are you alright, Neville? You're a good deal clumsier today than I've seen you be in years!" exclaimed Neville's grandmother.  
  
"I'm fine. My mind was wandering. Sorry," Neville said, apologizing for the umpteenth time that day.  
  
"Well be careful. You could have really injured yourself and you know that I'm no mediwizard." She took an elaborate jar from the mantel and looked at Neville. "Are you ready to go?" she asked him.  
  
"Yes, Gran," answered Neville, taking a pinch of Floo powder. He threw it into the crackling fire and stepped in. "Diagon Alley," he said clearly, and he soon found himself in London's secret wizarding community. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Neville looked around as he ducked and stepped out of the fireplace. A moment later his grandmother appeared, brushing soot from her starched dress and large green hat.

"Neville! You are covered in soot! Clean yourself up this instant."

"Yes, Gran," Neville answered, wiping ashes from his face. He ran his fingers through his coarse, dark brown hair, sighing. His grandmother had been particularly harsh with him since he had gotten his O.W.L. results. He remembered what that day had been like...

"_Neville!" his grandmother had yelled rather fiercely to him one day after breakfast._

"_Yes, Gran?" he had asked, looking up from Magical Plants of the Arctic rather cautiously._

"_Well, Neville. We were so happy when we found out that you weren't a squib, but after looking at your O.W.L. results, I'd say that you might as well be one."_

"_Er...what did I get?" Neville asked apprehensively._

"_Do you know what your father got?" she yelled, ignoring his question._

"_Yes," he answered, but she either did not hear him or chose not to._

"_Three Outstandings, three Excellents, and one Acceptable! And your mother did just as well. What went wrong, Neville? Really?"_

"_I don't know, Gran. I'm sorry. What did I get? Can you please tell me?"_

"_A Dreadful in Divination! A Poor in Astronomy! Poor in Care of Magical Creatures! Poor in Transfiguration! That is failing, dear. Failing!"_

"_Oh," Neville said quietly to himself. "What about my other classes?" he asked._

"_Well, you managed to pass four classes. Congratulations," she said coldly. "I'm surprised that they aren't failing you. You received an Acceptable in Charms and Potions, an Excellent in Defense against the Dark Arts, and Outstanding in Herbology. You will be in N.E.W.T. level for all the classes you passed except for Potions. You'll have some other sort of class for that. I received the book list today as well."_

Neville reached for the book list in his pocket at the thought of it, and was glad to find it still there. He had happy memories of her though.

"_Granny! Owww! Granny! I fell! Granny!"_

"_Oh, Neville, are you alright? What has happened to you?" Gran asked, looking at his bloody knee with a concerned expression._

"_I was trying to fly. I want to be magic, just like you and Uncle Algie. I don't want to be a stupid squib!"_

"_Neville, what has your uncle been telling you? It's alright if you can't do magic. Now, let's fix up your knee."_

Neville now realized that it would not be alright if he could not do magic. He sighed and looked towards his grandmother.

"Come along now, Neville," his grandmother called. He obediently followed behind her, feeling slightly like a trained dog. "First to Florish and Blotts, then we need to get you some new school robes and potion ingredients, and you ruined your dragon hide gloves last year...and you need something new for N.E.W.T. Herbology.

"Yes, some sort of special planter."

"Okay, we'll also need to buy that."

Neville trotted after her, and saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the distance. His mind raced back to his dreams and to the Department of Mysteries. Neville felt that Harry must be horribly sad about Sirius Black's death, although he did not know the entire story. Even with all of Harry's problems, Neville sometimes could not help but feel jealous of him, especially for his friendship with Ron and Hermione.

Neville did not have many friends. Sure, Ron, Harry, Hermione, and the others were nice to him, they were sort of his friends, but he thought that they were probably kind to him more out of pity than because they actually liked him as a person. Nevertheless, he waved to them when he got nearer, and would have talked a bit, but Gran looked sternly at him and said, "Come on, Neville," in a way that made him hurry up a bit.

o


End file.
